


Coping

by WatMcGregor



Series: Cop, Couple, Coping [3]
Category: EastEnders (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-29
Updated: 2020-12-29
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:53:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28412703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WatMcGregor/pseuds/WatMcGregor
Summary: Can Ben cope now that it's all gone wrong?
Relationships: Callum "Halfway" Highway/Ben Mitchell
Series: Cop, Couple, Coping [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2080875
Kudos: 26





	Coping

ONE  
Ben wakes with a pounding head and drool on his chin. Harsh morning light is suffusing the room through the open curtains and he sits up gingerly, wondering why he’s sprawled on the couch instead of being tucked up in bed with -.  
Oh.   
That would be why. He opens his eyes and they’re met with those of Gladys’ china dog on the mantelpiece. It seems to have gone back to glaring at him balefully, its head riven by a crack that’s still visible, despite the repair job Callum had attempted. Ben had offered up a prayer to Gladys yesterday, thinking if anyone could get him to Callum on time, she could. She’d always loved Callum. At the time, on that lonely, heart-crushing trip back from the airport he’d thought she just hadn’t heard his prayer. Now, he thinks maybe she did. She always had loved Callum. Maybe she’d conspired to make sure that his life would no longer be blighted by Ben.  
He wipes his chin, grimacing as his movement jarrs the shoulder he’d evidently been sleeping on all night, and fumbles for his phone on the coffee table, knocking over an empty, half-crushed beer can - one of a number - as he does so.  
No messages from Callum. No messages from anyone.  
He stumbles into the kitchen and pours himself a glass of water, takes a few sips and then rushes to the bathroom to throw up. He groans as he washes out his mouth afterwards, and then rests his hands on the washbasin, staring at his face in the mirror above it. His eyes are bloodshot and puffy from where he’d cried himself out last night, his face pale. He looks like a man who’s given up on life.  
He wanders around the flat, looking out at the Square from the vantage point of each of the windows. He can just about make out his dad’s car lot at the far side, it’s bright new bunting rippling in the September breeze. He wonders how long it’s going to last under Phil’s ownership now that… Now that Ben’s let him down so badly. He feels a prickle of remorse for Kush, if not for his dad. He sighs. He’s not a fool, he knows he’s going to have to face a reckoning with Phil at some point soon. Maybe he’d have been better off fulfilling his part of the deal. As it stands, he seems to have been left with nothing. No Callum, no dad.  
He refuses to believe he’s lost Callum though. He picks up his phone and types out a quick Whatsapp message. I chose you, Callum. Dad wanted me to get involved in a deal and I didn’t know how to get out of it, but in the end I chose you. I just couldn’t get there in time.  
There’s no reply. He goes into the bedroom and collapses onto the bed, burying his face in Callum’s pillow. They can still salvage this. He, Ben, can salvage this when Callum gets back. Maybe a cooling-off period is what they both need. Ben has chosen Callum, he’ll see that eventually.  
He drops off to sleep again, and only wakes at the sound of someone hammering on the door.   
He swings round to sit on the side of the bed and rubs the sleep out of his eyes. This is it, then.   
He feels like a condemned man approaching the gallows as he walks towards the door, which is vibrating with the intensity of the blows being rained upon it. He takes a breath and then opens it, and it’s pushed further open from the other side even before he’s set eyes on his dad. He’s propelled back into the living room.  
“Where’s yer ‘boyfriend’ then?” snarls Phil. “He gonna defend ya, is he?”  
“He ain’t here,” says Ben quietly. “So do yer worst.”  
“Oh I intend to. I wanna listen to yer excuses first though. I wanna hear ya plead with me not to kill ya.”  
When Ben doesn’t speak, he steps closer, looming over him. “C’mon! Why didn’t ya come through yesterday?”  
Ben rubs a weary hand over his eyes, his shoulders hunched and his gaze on the floor, braced for the punch he knows is coming any second. “We was goin’ on holiday, dad. I was gonna miss me flight.” He shakes his head sadly. “Turns out I missed it anyway.”  
He stares down at the pattern on the rug, still avoiding looking at Phil, but he hears him scoff and he can imagine the look he’s giving him without even having to see it. “You binned off a deal that was gonna sort out me businesses for a jaunt with yer ‘boyfriend’? You do know they cancelled the whole deal? People like that tend to get a bit twitchy if things don’t work out how they expect.”  
“There wouldn’ta bin a problem if they’d turned up on time, dad! I had it all planned out.”  
Phil stares at him. “And where’s yer ‘boyfriend’ now, eh?” Ben doesn’t respond, and he sniggers as he works it out. “Oh, I get it. He’s gone on holiday without ya, hasn’t he? What was that he said when I come here before? The two of you are ‘family’? Not so keen on playin’ happy families when it means he don’t get to the seaside, is he? P’raps you shoulda realised which side yer bread was buttered, Ben. Remembered who yer real family is.”   
Ben knew it was coming, but he’s still winded as Phil lands the first punch to his stomach. He stumbles backwards and only just keeps his balance with a hand on the arm of the couch. Phil advances on him, battering him, calling him all the names under the sun in the short gasps of breath he’s taking in between his exertions. “You. Have. Made. Me. A. Laughin’. Stock.”   
Ben’s brain whites out. He always used to switch off when he was a kid. He’d become disassociated, almost as if he was watching himself getting beaten from somewhere up above it all. He’d reach that point where his brain flipped off and animal instinct took over. It helped him take the blows, and it was only later that he’d feel the pain. Now though, at Phil’s words, a white-hot anger crystallises in his brain, searing itself through the numbness. He’s lost Callum. Phil might be a laughing stock, but Ben’s lost the only person who made him feel like he was worth something. He lashes out, knocking Phil a glancing blow on the side of his head, and causing him to step back. Ben presses home his advantage and lands another punch on his shoulder, and another to his stomach, and Phil stumbles back a couple more steps, breathing heavily.  
Ben pulls up short, rubbing at his knuckles. He’s trembling, steeling himself for what’s to come. His dad isn’t going to let his retaliation go without punishment, surely? Phil is staring hard at him, still trying to regain his breath and bent double from the blows, and as Ben tries to hold his gaze a grim smile spreads across Phil’s face.  
“See,” he pants, pulling himself up to his full height again. “I knew there was a real man in there somewhere. Deep, deep down, underneath all the queerness.”  
“Dad,” begins Ben, his voice that of a little boy again. “I’m sorr - ”  
Phil raises a hand and points at him. “You had better work out how yer gonna’ make this up to me, Ben, and quick. D’ya hear me? You ain’t heard the last of this.”  
He turns and heads for the door, leaving Ben shaking and bruised, but full of wonder, too, that his dad had just backed off like that. Maybe it’s what Ben should’ve done all along. Maybe Phil can dish it out but he just can’t take it.

It’s funny how time can speed up or slow down. Ben bets the next six days he endures would have flown by if he was in Ibiza with Callum. As it is, each day feels like it’s never going to end. He sits in a stupor on the couch every day, staring at the telly as programmes about DIY and antiques and cooking and quiz shows pass in front of his eyes. Jay sends him the occasional text, snippets about the car lot and questions about whether he’s getting too much sun out there in Ibiza. Ben ignores them all. There’s nothing from Callum. Ben sends him one more message. Hope you’re having a good time. Wish I was there with you x. He doesn’t really expect a reply, and he’s not disappointed.  
He remembers to go to bed each night only because the light fades from the room, and then he spends endless hours tangling in the sheets as he tosses and turns, his mind running overtime and what few dreams he has punctured with thoughts of abandonment and loss. On the sixth day, he realises that Callum’s due home late that evening, and he looks around the flat in horror at the discarded beer cans and half-empty takeaway cartons. He hasn’t shaved or showered for days, and the bedclothes could do with changing.   
He snaps into action with an hour and a half to spare, binning all the rubbish, wrestling with the duvet cover and getting himself clean, trying to effect a transformation from the depressed hobo he sees in the bathroom mirror to a presentable young man, worthy of love. He’s just trying to get the kitchen looking a bit more like a bomb hasn’t hit it, when he hears the flat door open.  
He swallows hard and steps into the kitchen doorway. Callum looks... incredible. Stunning. His suntan accentuates the blue of his eyes. Not for the first time, Ben is reminded of just how lucky he is that this beautiful man chose him.  
They stare at each other from opposite sides of the room in silence. Callum’s face is guardedly blank.  
“Babe,” Ben whispers. “I missed ya.”  
He sees a grimace pass across Callum’s face at the words, and the older man comes more fully into the room, closing the door behind himself and dumping his rucksack next to the couch.  
“You have a good time?” asks Ben, still hovering uncertainly in the doorway.  
“Uh, yeah,” says Callum, looking bemused, as if the question’s particularly difficult. He throws himself down onto the couch. “Bit different to what I planned.”  
“Yeah,” says Ben with a soft chuckle. “Did ya get my messages?”  
Callum rubs a weary hand over his face. “Let’s not do this tonight, Ben. We’ll talk in the mornin’, OK?”  
“Yeah, course,” says Ben, nodding enthusiastically. “Didn’t mean to pounce on ya as soon as ya came through the door. Can I get ya anythin’?”  
“No, just -” Callum sounds tetchy. Ben supposes he must be tired after travelling for much of the day. “No.”   
Ben crosses to sit beside him, and reaches out a hand to stroke down his thigh. Callum pushes it away.  
“I’m tired, Ben, I’m gonna go to bed.”  
“OK, no problem. I just changed the bedclothes, should be all nice and fresh for us.”  
“Where’s the spare duvet? asks Callum. “Top shelf of the wardrobe, is it?”  
Ben lets out a disbelieving laugh. “What? Why d’ya want the spare duvet?”  
“Cos I’m gonna sleep out here tonight.”   
“You don’t havta do that,” says Ben. “I know I messed up, but - ”  
Callum fixes him with a sad look. “I meant what I said, Ben, I can’t do this no more.” He sighs. “I didn’t wanna do this tonight, but… I don’t wanna be with ya no more.”  
Ben’s stomach drops to the floor. “What? No! Don’t be daft, Cal. We can sort this out. I can be better, whatever ya want. I told ya, I chose you but me dad - ”  
“Ben. It’s over.” Callum shifts round to face him, desperate for him to see that he’s serious. “We are over. You lie to me, take me for a fool, and the risk to me career is just too much. The more you do these dodgy deals with yer dad, the more chance I stand of losin’ me job.”  
“But I told ya,” says Ben, “I binned me dad off. I chose you.”  
“Yeah,” says Callum, wearily. “Til the next time he comes runnin’, an’ then the lies’ll start again. I can’t be a part of this anymore, Ben.”  
“If it’s just me dad that’s the problem, I’ll kick him out me life,” says Ben, panic rising in his chest. “I would do that for you Cal, cos I love ya.”  
Callum shakes his head sadly. “I don’t wanna - ”  
“I love ya! And I know you love me.”  
“It ain’t enough!”  
Ben sits forward, frantic with how much he means it. “You love me, and we can be good together. I know we can and so do you.”  
“Ben, I - ”  
They each fight to make their points of view heard, parrying each other’s statements like lawyers in a court of law, until Ben gambles with the prime piece of evidence in his case.  
“Don’t give up on us Cal, please. I can change.”  
“Change?” Callum huffs out a tired laugh, and raises a hand to touch the bruises on Ben’s face and knuckles. “Yer still goin’ out and gettin’ into fights any time you feel a bit bad. I can’t handle it anymore, Ben. Who d’ya try and beat up this time, eh? You go round the Albert again and wallop the first bloke who looked at ya funny?”  
“No! I can explain that. Look Cal, I messed up, I know, but - ”  
“I slept with someone else.”  
Ben’s gambled and come up short. He’s lost. He bites back the next words he was about to utter. “What?”  
There are tears in Callum’s eyes as he sees the reaction on Ben’s face. “I’m sorry, Ben. I…uh…I slept with someone else in Ibiza. I just wanted to be with someone who made me feel good.”  
“I make ya feel good,” says Ben in a whisper.  
“You did,” says Callum. The implication is clear. Not anymore. “Sometimes,” he adds.  
“Who was he?”  
Callum shakes his head. “Don’t matter.”  
“Who was he?” says Ben in a louder voice. “You owe me that much at least.”  
Callum sighs. “His name was Georges. He was French. It weren’t anythin’ serious, Ben. It was just a holiday fling.”  
A holiday fling. If Ben had’ve been there…   
“But you can’t,” whispers Ben. “You can’t move on, Callum. Me ‘n’ you - ”  
“There is no me ‘n’ you, Ben. Not anymore. I’m sorry. We was over the moment you never made that flight. Maybe before, to be honest.”  
Callum gets up and heads into the bedroom. Ben follows close behind. He sees Callum’s gaze flicker over to Ben’s rucksack on the floor at the end of the bed, still not unpacked from the previous week, and flicker quickly away again, as if it’s too painful to see.   
“I’ll start lookin’ for somewhere else to live,” says Callum, opening the wardrobe door and reaching up to take down the duvet. “It’ll take me a bit of time, but until then I want us to sleep separately.”  
“Oh yeah?” says Ben, a little bit of fight coming back to him. He juts his chin out. “Why’s that then? Scared if you sleep in the same bed as me you’ll end up gettin’ back with me?”  
“Yeah,” says Callum simply. The honesty of his answer takes all the wind out of Ben’s sails. “Yeah, I am, Ben. I still love ya, but you ain’t no good for me.”  
He sits on the side of the bed, looking small and miserable. “You will take me down with ya, Ben, if I don’t get out now.”  
Ben can’t disagree with him. It’s what he’s thought all along if he’s honest with himself. He sits beside him and swallows down the lump in his throat. “It was me dad.”  
“Huh?”  
“These bruises. Me dad come round and laid into me cos I messed up his deal, racin’ across London to get to you, and for the first time in me life…” Ben takes a deep breath. “For the first time in me life, I hit him back.”  
“Yeah?” Callum’s voice is quiet. He glances round at Ben, and runs a soft hand down his thigh. “Good for you. Hope it hurt him.” He pulls his hand back quickly, as if he’s only just realised what he’s doing. Muscle memory.  
Ben sniffs a gentle laugh. “I hope so too.” He turns his head and scrutinises Callum’s profile. He looks tired and tormented. He doesn’t look like someone who’s just had a relaxing holiday in the sun.  
Ben stands up and grabs the duvet. “You sleep in here, Cal. Yer too big for the couch. I’ll go out there.”  
“Thanks,” says Callum, briefly taking his hand.   
Ben fights the urge to step closer and pull him into a kiss. “G’night Cal.”  
Callum lets his hand drop. “Night Ben.”

TWO  
Ben’s woken up the next morning by the sound of Callum pottering around in the kitchen. It’s so good to have him back. Ben stretches and yawns luxuriantly, before he remembers their conversation from last night. He closes his eyes again and tries to burrow underneath the duvet.  
A mug and a plate of toast with marmalade is placed on the coffee table in front of him, and he opens his eyes again as Callum crosses to the armchair, bowl of cereal in his hand. He looks soft from sleep, his hair sticking out on one side and every part of him that isn’t covered by boxers and t-shirt looking tanned.  
“Uh, thanks,” Ben says, indicating the mug and plate on the table.  
“S’alright,” says Callum quietly. “I ain’t gonna be an idiot about this. We can still be civil to each other, can’t we?”  
Ben’s not so sure. There’s an ache in his chest and so many words on his tongue. He bites them back and struggles round to a sitting position. “You always did think food was the solution to any problems, didn’t ya?”  
Callum makes a face, as if he doesn’t know what Ben’s talking about.   
“Remember when ya made me poached eggs on toast at midnight?”  
“Ben - ” Callum’s tone is warning. It’s not that he doesn’t remember, it’s that he doesn’t want to be reminded.  
“Don’t matter,” says Ben, crestfallen. He takes a bite of his toast and then sets it to one side. He can’t eat right now.  
“Whatcha doin’ today?” asks Callum. “You gonna go back to the car lot early?”  
They’d taken an additional day at the end of their holiday, thinking they might need it after the flight back home.  
“Nah,” says Ben. “Can’t summon up the energy. What about you?”  
“I, uh… arranged to meet up with some mates from work. Probably be out yer hair for most of the day.”   
“Can’t bear to be around me, huh?” says Ben. He tries for a teasing tone but it falls flat. He just sounds sad. Pathetically sad.  
“Ben,” says Callum, in the same warning tone he’d used before. “Please don’t make this harder than it needs to be.”  
“ME make it hard?” spits Ben. “I’m the one bein’ dumped! D’you expect me to just sit here and take it, Callum? Take it on the chin like a proper gentleman, be all ‘civil’ and polite about it? It’s killin’ me, Cal - ”  
“I know!” Callum exclaims. He pauses to gather himself. “I know,” he says, quieter. “It’s killin’ me too Ben, but it’s just what I gotta do.” He sits forward, cereal bowl forgotten on his thighs. “It’ll be better in the long run, Ben, I promise ya.” He nods his head enthusiastically. “For you, too. I mean, let’s face it, it can’t be a bowl o’ cherries havin’ me shouting an’ naggin’ at ya all the time, can it?”  
Ben thinks he would take Callum’s shouting and nagging any day and every day over the alternative. Solitude and sadness, days spent using all his energy telling himself he’s fine. He closes his lips on that thought, and stands up and makes his way to the bathroom.

Callum’s out of the flat by ten thirty, and Ben’s left wondering what to do with his day. He calls Jay at the car lot, just to check in.  
“Boss! How’s yer suntan?” asks Jay. “You musta had a good time. You never replied to a single one of me messages. I shan’t hold it against - ”  
“I never went,” says Ben quietly.  
Jay chuckles, evidently suspecting a prank. “What?”  
“I never went. Callum did.” He digs his fingers into the corners of his eyes. They come away wet. “We split up, Jay.” He swallows down the lump that’s reappeared in his throat.  
“Mate! I’m sorry. What - ”  
“Listen,” says Ben. He really doesn’t want to go into the whys and wherefores of what happened with Jay, of all people. Jay of the happy, settled relationship and baby on the way. “Could you hold the fort for a bit longer? I just…I just need some time out.”  
“Yeah, course boss. Anythin’ ya want. I can do another week or two.”  
“Two weeks. I won’t be back for two weeks, alright?” Ben tries to adopt a breezy tone. “I’m sure you won’t mind, will ya? Lots of readies for yer baby fund.”  
“Yeah. Listen, I’m sorry boss.”  
“Yeah, gotta go.” Ben can’t stand the pitying tone to Jay’s voice. “I’ll call ya sometime soon, alright?”

He cuts the call and wanders round the flat aimlessly for five minutes. It’s so quiet! He’s gonna have to get used to it. Quiet days and nights. Long, quiet days and nights.  
He tries to think of something he can do for the day. He can’t vegetate in front of the telly again. If Callum came back unexpectedly he’d look like a right saddo. No, if Callum can spend the day out with his mates, Ben can spend the day out with... Ben can spend the day out too. He’s not one for sitting and moping, He’s a man of action. He grabs his wallet and his keys, throws on his jacket and heads out.   
The Square is noisy and too full of people. He can’t be dealing with people right now, He just wants to sit in a corner and lick his wounds, which is why he ends up in the caff, nursing a cup of coffee and staring at the table top.  
He’d taken Callum for granted. He knows that now. He trawls back through their time together, remembering occasions when he’d felt so sure of Callum’s love for him; so certain he could do anything and Callum would forgive him. He’d not always been the most loving of blokes in return. He’d been awkward and sarcastic, dismissive and scornful. He wonders when the rot had set in; when Callum stopped taking whatever he threw at him and started chalking up the slights and the hurts, and the casual jibes, logging them all and plotting a point at which he would walk away. If Ben could, he would go back and change every single careless word. If only Callum would turn around and come back to him.  
“Cheer up mate! Might never ‘appen.”  
He looks up. A stranger is standing at the counter just in front of his table and peering at him with a grin on his face, like he’s just made the funniest, most original joke in the world. He looks a bit like a deflated version of Phil with his bald head, but much smaller in stature. Wiry, but strong with it.  
“What?” says Ben.  
“I said, cheer up, might never ‘appen!”  
“It already has,” says Ben, dropping his gaze back to the table top.  
The bloke is served with his drink and he pulls out the chair opposite Ben and sits down, uninvited.  
Ben stares at him in astonishment. “Listen,” he says, “I’m sure yer a whiz between the sheets but yer a bit old for me and I ain’t lookin’ for company, so do one, yeah?”  
“You what?” asks the bloke. “I ain’t one o’ them, thank ya very much!”  
“No? Well either way, like I said, I ain’t - ”  
“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Although I’m fuckin’ offended you’d mistake me for one o’ them,” says the bloke, clutching his hand to his chest in a gesture that Ben thinks looks decidedly camp, for all his protestations. His tone hardens. “Disgustin’ freaks, the lot of ‘em. You ask me they need a bit of National Service, that’d put ‘em straight.”  
“That right?” asks Ben, too tired and miserable to rise to the bait. Normally by now he’d have the bloke up against the nearest wall by the collar of his shirt.   
“Yeah, fuckin’ freaks.” The bloke takes a loud slurp from his drink and then smacks his lips. “Listen, you from round ‘ere?”  
“What?”  
“You from round here?”  
“What’s it to you?”  
“I’m lookin’ for someone, wondered if you might know him. Tall bloke, bit dopey-looking. Name’s Callum Highway.”  
Ben raises his head and gives the bloke a proper once-over. “Why would you be looking for Callum?”  
“So ya do know him? Where’s he live?”  
Ben chugs down the remains of his coffee and stands up, taking his time. “Mind yer own business.” He makes for the door and then turns back on a whim. “Oh, and by the way? I am ‘one o’ them’ and I think National Service is an excellent idea. All them men in uniform, sharing showers and running round in their skimpies. Sounds like a lovely idea, mate.”  
Outside the café he stands stock still in the middle of the pavement and takes a few deep breaths. It’s beginning to hit him. Beyond his business and Callum, he’s got nothing. What a sad, empty life! He sees himself as Gladys must have seen him back when they were neighbours. No wonder she was always mothering him! He used to kid himself that he was OK, but he guesses she could see the truth. She always was pretty perceptive.  
He casts around in his mind for something to do for the rest of the day, beginning to wander back towards the Square. The fluttering bunting on the car lot catches his eye as he rounds the corner, and he sets his feet in its direction, keeping an eye out in case Phil’s hanging around.  
When he pokes his head in through the door of the office, Kush is on the phone. He glances up and raises a hand, then goes back to his conversation. “Yes Mr Guest, of course. I’ll have it all polished up ready for when you call in tomorrow. Lovely, yes… yup. Yeah, OK, you take care now. Yep, see you tomorrow. Alright…bye.”  
He puts down the phone and rolls his eyes in Ben’s direction. “Thought I was gonna get his life story. Still, ‘nother car sold.”  
“Yeah? How many’s that, then?”  
“This week, or this month? Seven so far this month.” Kush looks pleased with himself, as well he might. Ben knew he was the right bloke for the job.  
He crosses to throw himself into the chair in front of Kush’s desk. “Excellent. Turnin’ things around then?”  
“Yeah, I tell ya, puttin’ those ads in the paper made a world of difference. I’ve had people comin’ in tellin’ me they thought we’d closed down til they saw the ad in the paper.”  
“Yeah well, you gotta speculate to accumulate, ain’t ya?”  
“You certainly do.” Kush peers at him more closely. “You alright, mate? You look a bit…”  
“A bit what?” Ben’s tone is harsher than he’d intended, but to be honest, he’s getting sick of people noticing that there’s something wrong.  
“A bit tired, is all.”  
Ben scrubs his face with his hands. “Yeah, I am.” He huffs out a humourless laugh. “Sick and tired, that’s me.”  
Kush settles back in his seat. “Wanna talk about it?”  
“Nothin’ to talk about.” He relents a little. “Man trouble.”  
“Ah.” Kush looks like he’d rather not know, but then his face brightens again. “Although, if it’s anythin’ like woman trouble, I often find the best thing to do is keep yer mouth shut and wait for it to blow over.”  
“Yeah, think it’s a bit late for that,” says Ben.  
Kush is still peering at him. “Oh, well I’m sorry mate. Tell ya what then, take some time feelin’ sad, long as ya need, cos it is OK for blokes to feel sad, right? None of this macho ‘takin’ it on the chin’ nonsense. Then when yer ready, get back in the saddle.”  
Ben chuckles. “Nah, nah. More trouble than it’s worth, ain’t it?” He shakes his head sadly. “Nah, won’t be makin’ that mistake again. Right, let me have a look at the books, seein’ as I ain’t got anythin’ better to do.”

He spends a good two hours with Kush, running through the accounts and just shooting the breeze. He’s good company, a decent bloke, straightforward and down to earth. As Ben’s beginning to stir, making sounds about leaving, he says, “Listen, I’m often in the Vic of an evenin’. You ever fancy a quick pint, let me know, alright?”  
Ben frowns at him, wondering what he’s after.  
“Just – you know – if yer at a lose end now yer bloke’s…Whatever. If you wanna drink an’ a chat.”  
“Yeah, thanks,” says Ben, swallowing down the lump in his throat that seems to have returned again. Maybe this bloke is just genuinely being friendly, showing a bit of kindness without expecting anything in return. “I might just do that.”  
“OK, well, you’ve got me number.”  
“Yeah, cheers.”

Back at the flat, he wonders what to do about food for the evening. Should he cook for Callum? Are they going to be shopping and cooking and eating separately now? He doesn’t know the etiquette when your boyfriend’s just told you he wants you out of his life. Callum had made breakfast for him that morning, so maybe they are still doing everything together - apart from the obvious. Ben honestly has no clue. He decides to cook enough pasta for a couple of meals, and if Callum doesn’t want it, he’ll heat it up for himself tomorrow.   
He’s just draining the pasta when Callum arrives home. He’s looking happy, like he’s had a good day. His face falls as soon as he sets eyes on Ben, though.  
“I, uh…I just made pasta,” says Ben. “There’s enough if ya want some.”  
“No, I ate already,” says Callum. “Thanks though. I’m just gonna - ” He gestures to the bedroom, and disappears, closing the door firmly behind him. Ben hears the telly go on a few seconds later. He throws the serving spoon he was using into the sink. His appetite’s gone.  
He spends the evening spaced out in front of the telly in the living room, but he couldn’t say afterwards with any certainty what programme was actually on. He can hear the telly in Callum’s room – he supposes it’s Callum’s room now, not their room – and at one point he hears him on the phone. He wonders if he’s speaking to Georges, the hot French guy from his holiday, or maybe he’s met someone else since he’s been back. Ben had thought feeling heartbroken was the worst feeling in the world, but feeling jealous is a whole other level of pain.  
He’s wondering if he should go out for a walk until bedtime to get away from it all, try and walk it off, when there’s a knock on the door. He glances back towards the bedroom. Has Callum invited someone round? He doesn’t emerge from the bedroom, so either he hasn’t heard the door or he’s not expecting anyone. Ben crosses the room as the caller knocks again, and wrenches open the door.  
There on the landing is the bloke from the caff. His face is wreathed in a big smile, but it fades quickly as he sees Ben.  
“What the fuck are you doin’ here?”  
“I could say the same to you, mate.”  
“I was told Callum Highway lived here.”  
Across the room the bedroom door opens, and Callum emerges. The bloke catches sight of him behind Ben and his face spreads into a wide smile again. He opens his arms. “Son!”

THREE  
Ben looks from Callum to the bloke and back again. Callum is looking pale, despite his suntan.  
“What you doin’ here?” he asks. “How d’ya find me?”  
“Asked around. Did a bit of detective work.” The bloke is still looking chuffed to have found Callum.  
“Yer not welcome here.” Callum is not looking chuffed, by any stretch of the imagination. He turns to Ben. “Did you have sommat to do with this?”  
Ben is outraged. “No! Course not!”  
“I did meet him earlier though,” says the bloke. “In the caff.”  
“I didn’t tell him where to find ya though!” protests Ben. “I didn’t have the faintest idea who he was. Thought he was comin’ on to me!”  
The bloke takes a step in through the door and indicates Ben with a jut of his chin. “Does this joker live here?”  
“Yeah, I do,” says Ben. “So ya might wanna start being a bit more civil.”  
“Ben,” warns Callum, aiming a frown at him.  
The bloke leans towards Callum, sharing a confidence. “You do realise he’s one o’ them, Callum? What the hell you doin’ lettin’ someone like that in yer flat?”  
“OUR flat,” says Ben.   
“Ben, leave it!” Callum takes a step towards his dad. “I’ll take it from here. You go and… do somethin’ else somewhere else.”  
He glares meaningfully at Ben and they conduct a silent battle of wills for a second or two. Eventually, Ben backs down and heads for the kitchen. He leans against the counter, where he can still see and hear what’s going on out in the living room.  
“Ain’t ya gonna invite me in?” asks the bloke.  
“No, I ain’t,” says Callum. “I don’t wantcha here.”  
“Oh, well that’s lovely that is, ain’t it? Lovely thing to say to yer long-lost dad.”  
“Whatcha want?”  
“Listen boy, I’m worried about ya.” The bloke takes a further step into the room. “That weirdo livin’ here with ya. Has he ever…” He lowers his voice, conspiratorially. “You know… has he ever tried it on with ya? Cos I would batter him if he has. Disgustin’ little - ”  
“That ain’t why you come here,” says Callum, “so say yer piece and then go. What is it ya want?” He looks rattled. Ben’s never seen him look so… un-composed. Even when Callum is angry or upset with him, he still retains a level of composure, still seems to be in control. Ben notes the body language, the edge to his voice, and recognises it from his own experiences. Callum is scared of his dad. He’s twice the height of him and he’s scared of him. It’s not about physical stature, though. Not when psychology comes into play.  
“Well, since I’m over the threshold…” says the bloke – Jonno. He crosses to sit on the couch and starts to look around himself, folding his arms on his chest like a maiden aunt come for afternoon tea. “Nice,” he pronounces, “Very nice.”  
The photos! Ben suddenly realises Jonno has full view of the photos ranged around the walls of him and Callum. He dashes into the living room and stands in front of the most incriminating one – a selfie they’d taken when they were in bed one night. They’d just had one of the most mind-blowing sessions of their time together, and Ben had decided they had to commemorate it with a photo. It had showed. Callum’s hair is sticking out at all angles, and Ben had still been shaking so much that the picture was slightly out of focus. It just made it more arty, but there could be no mistaking what it represented.  
“What you doin’ back, ya little pervert?” asks Jonno. “I thought my boy told ya to get lost?”  
“Yeah, I would, but it’s me bed-time and yer on me bed,” says Ben, leering at him. “Yer welcome to join me if ya want. I’ve got a feelin’ you’d like it quite rough, am I right?”  
“Ben!” exclaims Callum.  
“You what?” asks Jonno, his chest puffing up with indignation.   
“Dad, leave it. He’s just tryin’ to wind ya up.”  
Jonno stands up and raises himself to his full height, which is still only just level with Ben’s face. “I ain’t gonna sit here and be tainted by the same air you’re breathin’.” He turns to Callum. “Listen boy, I need to talk to you about sommat, so meet me in that pub across the Square the night after next, alright?”  
“Nah - ”  
“It’s important. Eight o’clock, alright?”  
Callum sighs. “OK, I’ll meet ya. Just once, and then I want ya gone again.”  
“Ungrateful little - !”  
“If you want him to turn up, you might wanna think about bein’ a bit more civil. Again,” says Ben, crossing his arms.  
Jonno turns on him and opens his mouth to utter some exclamation, but the wisdom of Ben’s words evidently filters in at some level. He closes his mouth and nods, turning back to Callum. “Right, I’ll see you at eight in the pub. We can have a proper catch-up out the way of this joker.”  
He strides out of the door without another word, leaving Callum and Ben staring at each other in the sudden silence.  
“What was that all about?” asks Callum eventually, when some of the colour’s returned to his face.  
“No idea. Him sayin’ jump and expectin’ ya to jump, I should imagine,” says Ben, sitting down on the couch.  
“No, not him! You!” Callum throws himself into the armchair and glares at Ben in disbelief. “I told ya to get lost, but no, you had to make it all about you, didn’tcha? I coulda got rid of him without your help.”  
Ben huffs out a sarcastic laugh to conceal his hurt at Callum’s words. “Yeah, looked like you had it totally under control, Cal.”  
“I don’t need rescuing by you!”  
“No, but ya did need me to stop ya bein’ outed, didn’t ya?”  
Callum shakes his head. “THAT was stoppin’ me from bein’ outed? In what universe was your behaviour gonna stop me dad’s doubts about who you were and why you were in my flat?”  
“OUR flat, Callum,” says Ben in a warning tone. “And I dunno, maybe the universe in which he was about to see the photo I took of us just after you’d had yer cock up me arse. You know, unless I stood in front of it so he couldn’t see it. Just a thought.”  
Callum stares at him with an unreadable expression on his face, and then he jumps up and strides across to the bedroom. “I’m goin’ to bed.”

Ben tries to sleep that night but, once again, he finds himself tossing and turning. He’s getting used to broken nights’ sleep and resigns himself to it, lying quietly in the dark listening to the sounds from outside – a pair of cats fighting, a car door slamming, voices getting louder and then trailing away as a couple of people walk past the flat.   
He hears a faint sound from within the flat, and then the bedroom door opens slowly and Callum crosses in the dark to sit in the armchair. Ben hears the springs creak as he settles himself into it.  
Callum sighs, and Ben hears the rasp of skin as he rubs his hands together. “You awake?” he asks in a very quiet voice.  
“Yeah,” says Ben. He reaches over and fumbles for the switch to the lamp at the side of the couch, then props his head up on his hand.  
Callum looks exhausted. He stares at Ben through puffy eyes that are made darker by the shadows thrown by the light. “I’m sorry,” he says. “For havin’ a go at ya earlier. I get that you were lookin’ out for me in yer own twisted way.”  
“’S OK. I think,” says Ben, not sure if he can totally consider that an apology.  
“He winds me up, ya know? Seein’ him turn up on the doorstep like that, like I hadn’t spent the last six years tryin’ to get away from him, it - ”  
“I know, Callum. I understand.” Ben indicates himself with a sweep of his free hand. “Yer talkin’ to the poster boy for daddy issues, remember?”  
Callum gives him a sad smile. “Yeah, you get it, dontcha? Of all people, you get it.”  
“Pretty much. I’m sure he had his own special ways of tormentin’ ya though.”  
“Yeah,” sighs Callum. He takes a deep breath and starts to describe what his life had been like, growing up with Jonno as a dad. It seems that once he starts to talk, he can’t stop himself, and a litany of missed birthdays and beatings and drunken rampages pours from his mouth in a stream of consciousness. Ben watches him as he talks, and loves him as much as he ever has.  
When Callum’s finally talked himself out, he rests his head on the back of the chair and sighs heavily, his face creased in a frown. The silence they sit in is all the more pronounced.   
“You ain’t never shared all that with me before,” says Ben, eventually. After a few seconds’ reflection he adds. “I, uh… I know I treated ya bad sometimes. I mean, not on the level of yer dad, but I’m sorry, I took ya for granted.”  
“You were never as bad as me dad,” says Callum, raising his head to fix Ben with an earnest look. “Course ya weren’t. Ya did sometimes remind me of him though. A little bit, maybe, when you was drunk.”  
“Sorry. I never meant to hurt ya.”  
“I know,” says Callum. “I know ya didn’t. Sometimes we don’t realize what we’re doin’ though, do we?” He sits forward and folds his arms around himself.  
“Not til it’s too late,” agrees Ben, regretting every cross word he’s ever thrown in Callum’s direction. The older man is looking small and vulnerable. Ben remembers how irrepressible he’d been when he was first chasing Ben, refusing to take ‘no’ for an answer and just turning up whenever he felt like it, until Ben had finally given in. It feels like they’re both a long way away from the people they’d been then. He longs to cross the room and take Callum in his arms, make everything better for him.  
Callum smiles across at him with soft eyes, a small, tentative smile, and they hold each other’s gaze.  
Eventually, Ben shifts position. “Cal…Can I sleep in the bed with ya tonight? Not to do anythin’, just - ”  
Callum clears his throat and looks away. “I don’t think that would be a good idea, Ben.” He stands up abruptly and crosses to the bedroom. “Listen, I’m gonna try and get some sleep. I’ll see ya in the mornin’.” And just like that, he’s gone and the bedroom door is closed firmly behind him.   
Ben turns off the light and curses himself for scaring him away. It had felt like they were reaching an understanding but no, he had to go and blow it, didn’t he? Story of his life.

The next morning, Callum is awkward around him as he gets ready for work, overly polite until Ben feels like yelling at him to be the real person he always has been up to now.  
As he finishes his cereal and is taking slow sips at the last half of his mug of tea, Callum says, “Listen, I’m sorry for off-loadin’ all that stuff on ya last night. I mean, I ain’t yer problem anymore, am I?”  
Ben stares at him in disbelief. “Course you are, Callum. I mean, you ain’t a problem, but I’ll always be here for ya. I understand what yer goin’ through, with yer dad. You can always talk to me.”  
“’S too hard,” says Callum, shaking his head. “It makes everythin’ blurred, don’t it? I mean, I tell you about me dad, you start askin’ if you can sleep with me again. It’s all too messy.”  
“I wanted to be there for ya,” says Ben, speaking slowly and clearly. “I just wanted to provide a bit of comfort.” He doesn’t say that it would have been comfort for himself as much as for Callum. He scoffs. “What? You think after you’d poured yer heart out I was gonna suggest a quick leg-over? Wow! Your opinion of me is even lower than I realised, ain’t it, Cal?”  
“I’m sorry - ”  
“Nah, don’t worry about it.”   
Ben goes to place his plate and mug in the kitchen sink. Callum follows him and stands in the doorway. “I, uh… I’ve got a mate at work, Tina. She said she’s got a spare room I can stay in, just til I get meself sorted properly. I, uh… I think I’m gonna take her up on it.”  
Ben spins round to face him. “What?”  
“We need to finish this, Ben. Draw some boundaries. We can’t do - ”  
“No!” says Ben, anguished.  
“We can’t do that,” continues Callum, “if we’re still livin’ on top of each other. This flat’s too small for two sharin’, ain’t it? I’ll get out yer hair and you can have the bedroom back.”  
“Please, Cal, don’t do this,” begs Ben. “Just stay, please. Can’t we see if we can sort it out?”  
Callum is shaking his head even before Ben’s finished speaking. “See, this is the problem. I’m confusin’ ya. I never meant to, Ben. I can’t be with ya, cos what you do – what you and yer dad do – is a direct threat to me career.”  
“It was never a problem when we first got together,” says Ben, with a crack in his voice.  
“I never realised the extent of what ya got up to,” says Callum, tears forming in his eyes. He blinks them away. “I never shoulda… I knew you had a reputation, but I never realised what that meant. I’m sorry, I just never realised.”  
“I don’t know what I’m gonna do without ya,” admits Ben, tears sliding down his face. “Please don’t leave me.”  
Callum’s face creases in concern. He crosses the kitchen and takes him in his arms. “You’ll be fine, Ben. Yer a fighter, ain’t ya? You’ll soon be back on yer feet if I’m out the way.”  
Ben shakes his head against Callum’s chest, his arms folded tight around him. “I won’t.”  
“I’m makin’ it more difficult for ya, still bein’ here. For both of us.” Callum strokes his hand through Ben’s hair. “You’ll be fine,” he repeats. “You’ll cope.” He steps back, and Ben feels bereft. “And maybe one day, we can be mates, once we’ve worked through this all. I’d like that.”  
He smiles sadly at Ben. “Listen, I’ve gotta go, gonna be late. I’ll speak to Tina today, arrange a move-in date, and then I’ll start gettin’ me stuff up together.”  
Ben leans back against the kitchen counter and clears his throat, scrubbing roughly at the tears on his cheeks.  
Callum moves around the living room collecting up the things he needs for work, and then shrugs on his jacket and picks up his rucksack. He turns back to Ben. “I’ll see ya later Ben.”  
He heads to the door and opens it. Pausing on the threshold, he pulls his shoulders back, takes a deep breath and then steps through. The door closes behind him.

FOUR  
The Vic is just beginning to fill up, people coming out for a pint and a chat after their tea and the soaps. The general hubbub of chatter is getting louder. Ben’s been there since half-six with Kush, who’s proved to be a proper diamond, listening to him patiently, offering advice where necessary, and sharing all the gory details of his own relationship breakdowns. It’s been comforting, in a way, knowing other people go through all this horrible hurt and come out the other side. Eventually.  
It’s been four days since Callum moved out, and Ben hasn’t seen or heard from him since. So much for staying friends. He wonders if Callum’s moved on, if there’s some other bloke getting the benefit of all that practice Callum put in to perfecting his bedroom technique. Sometimes Ben gets lost in remembering what it was like, being in bed with Callum. Other times he just kids himself that he hates him with a vengeance.  
This is the first time Ben’s ventured out of the flat since Callum left. He’d finally got sick of staring at the four walls and decided, in a fit of defiance, that it was time he made himself some new friends, hence the text to Kush. Now he’s out, the world seems a bit too loud and busy for his liking. He’s drinking to cope, and his words are becoming more slurred, his self-pity more and more pronounced. He knows he’s probably making a show of himself, but he can’t find it in himself to care. Kush is having the good grace to tolerate him, and that’s all that matters. Up this close, he really does have the most amazing eyes. Not quite on a par with Callum’s but, close enough.  
“ ‘S my turn to buy,” Ben says, trying to stand up and swaying against the table.  
“Nah, nah, think we’ve both had enough,” says Kush. He’s not exactly sober himself, he’s been more or less keeping up with Ben, but he’s got the advantage of having eaten more than a bowl of cornflakes all day, so it’s settling better with him. He reaches out a hand and steadies Ben. “C’mon buddy, we’d better get ya home, and my missus’ll be wonderin’ where I am.”  
“Ben shrugs him off. “Don’t wanna go home. Ain’t got a missus.” He pauses. “A missus Callum,” he corrects, frowning as that still doesn’t sound right. “I miss Callum,” he amends.  
“I know ya do, bud, but I tell ya what we’ll do. We’ll wander past the chippy, get ya somethin’ to eat, and then I’ll drop you off at yours and you can settle down with a nice bit of food inside ya, how’s that grab ya?”  
Ben would prefer a nice bit of Kush inside him, but even he’s not drunk enough to voice that out loud. Instead, he lets himself be led by the arm through the punters to the door.  
It’s cold outside the pub; it hits him almost immediately. “Nearly winter,” he mumbles to himself, feeling even more drunk as he breathes in the air.  
“Yeah, October, at least,” says Kush. “C’mon bud, try and walk in a straight line.”  
“I am tryin’. Not straight though. I ain’t straight, Kush.”  
“I know, mate. I know.”  
“You are though, ain’t ya?”  
“Yep. One hundred per cent.”  
“Shame,” mumbles Ben. “Thassa shame, Kush Kushlington. Very much a shame.”  
Kush chuckles. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”  
“Yeah. I’d do ya if ya wanted. There’s a compliment for ya.” They reach the chippy and Ben props himself up against the wall. “You have a very nice arse, Kush. You need to know this.”  
“Noted,” says Kush. “What d’ya wanna eat? My treat. And please don’t say anythin’ about a sausage.”  
“Nope, not a sausage,” says Ben. “Definitely not a sausage. I am off sausages, possibly for life.”  
“OK, so what d’ya want? Just chips?”  
“Just chips,” says Ben in his most regal tone, sliding down the wall.  
Two portions of chips purchased and Ben back on his feet, they carry on towards Ben’s flat, Kush eating his chips from the paper, Ben struggling to unwrap his. He still hasn’t managed it by the time they stop at the bottom of the steps to his front door. He shoves the whole parcel under his arm and turns to Kush. “You have been a proper gentleman, Kush Kushlington, and I thank you.”  
Kush grins, pointing a chip at him. “You are very welcome, and any time you want another session, just drop me a text, alright?”  
Ben mounts the steps and tries to insert his key into the lock. “I shall do that. And any time you want me to do you, you drop me a text, alright?”  
Kush chuckles. “I shall do that too. Although probably not.” He climbs the steps to stand beside Ben. “What you doin’ with that key? Give it ‘ere.”  
He unlocks the door with ease and hands the key back to Ben. He’s just the right height. His mouth is just…there. Ben leans forward and closes his eyes and tastes chip grease on Kush’s lips.   
“Woah! Alright buddy. Let’s not go there,” says Kush, pulling away. “You get yerself indoors, and text me tomorrow to let me know yer still alive, ya hear?”  
He descends the steps again and Ben waves forlornly at him, before letting himself into the hallway and beginning the task of negotiating the lock to his own flat.  
Once inside he throws his keys on the floor and wrangles again with the chip paper, eventually tearing a hole in it to get to the chips. He wanders around the flat while he eats, staring at the pictures on the walls. After only half a dozen chips he gives up and throws the rest in the kitchen bin with a sigh. He checks his phone. No messages. No one loves him.  
He crosses to sink down onto the couch and sits in a stupor until, eventually, he rolls over and falls asleep. 

He’s brought slowly back to consciousness the next morning by the sound of banging and clattering in the kitchen. He lies perfectly still with his eyes closed and tries to make sense of it. He’s on the couch again, still fully-clothed, evidently never made it as far as the bed last night.  
He cracks open one eye to let the light in and immediately regrets it. He lets out a pitiful groan and the noise brings a woman to the kitchen door. She’s old, Ben would guess in her fifties or maybe even sixties, with strawberry blonde hair, clearly dyed, and thick black eye make-up. She glares at him, and when she speaks it sounds like she’s forcing the words out of her mouth against their will.  
“The creature from the black lagoon awakes!”  
Ben wonders if he’s actually still asleep and this is a dream. Or more likely a nightmare, judging from the woman’s glowering expression and the bread knife she’s brandishing in her hand.  
“Wh-who the hell are you?” he asks, opening the other eye and fighting down the nausea in his throat. If she tries to kill him now, he’ll probably just let her.  
“Shirley Carter,” says the woman simply, still glaring. Ben realises that this might be her default expression. She indicates the ceiling with the knife. “From upstairs. We ain’t never met. I’ve heard ya though, you and yer boyfriend. God, have I heard ya!”  
“What? Why are you in me kitchen? I’ll call the cops.”  
The woman – Shirley – lets out a bark of a laugh. “No you won’t. Yer a Mitchell, ain’t ya? Not known for gettin’ into bed with the Old Bill.”  
“Well that’s where you’re wrong,” says Ben, swinging round gingerly to a sitting position. “Me boyfriend was Old Bill.”  
“Ah. WAS? That’d explain the mess in yer kitchen then.”  
“It wouldn’t explain why YOU’RE in me kitchen though,” says Ben, holding his head in his hands. “An’ how d’ya know who I am?”  
“Let’s just say I’ve got connections.” Shirley grabs a tea towel from the counter and wipes the knife and her wrist, which Ben sees now is covered in soap suds. “Yer doin’ me washin’ up?” he asks. “You obviously ain’t done much burglin’ in the past, have ya? Ain’t quite got the etiquette down?”  
“There’s an etiquette to burgling?” asks Shirley, disappearing back into the kitchen. Ben hears the tap go on and a glass being filled with water. “Seriously though,” she shouts back at him, “yer lucky you ain’t been ransacked. You left yer flat door wide open last night, ya melt. Where d’ya keep yer painkillers?”  
“Drawer underneath the microwave,” calls Ben, wincing as the sound goes throbbing through his head.  
“I only noticed cos I come down to put some rubbish outside,” continues Shirley, bringing the glass and the pack of pills across to Ben. “Coulda had all sorts in here riflin’ through yer things.” She puts the glass down on the coffee table with a little more force than Ben thinks is necessary, and throws the pack of pills down beside it. “Drink all that. Go on, down in one, sleepin’ beauty.”  
“They’d be welcome,” says Ben, reaching out slowly for the glass. “I ain’t got anythin’ worth nickin’.”  
“ ‘Cept yer self-respect,” says Shirley. “Oh no, wait!” She grins at him and then crosses to sit in the armchair, Callum’s armchair. “I come in to check you was alright and then saw the state of the kitchen. When was the last time you washed up?”  
Ben’s face creases up in concentration as he tries to do the calculation.  
“Don’t matter,” says Shirley. “Disgustin’ in there, it was. I should be claimin’ danger money. Eatin’ cornflakes outta a saucepan…” She shakes her head and settles herself more comfortably in the chair, then fixes Ben with that intimidating stare again. “What was he like then, this boyfriend of yours?”  
Ben sighs and takes a slow sip of the water as he ponders where to start. “He was lovely. Easy-goin’, kind, considerate.” He chuckles ruefully. “He chased me, when we first got together, wouldn’t take ‘no’ for an answer. Kind, considerate, carin’, lovin’.” His face falls. “Til he weren’t.” He points at one of the photos on the wall. He knows he’s going to have to take them down eventually, but he’s not been able to force himself yet. “That’s him.”  
Shirley studies the picture from her seat. “Good-lookin’ lad. Too good for you, am I right?”  
“Yeah.”  
“Why’s that then?”  
“Cos I…I ain’t none of them things. I’m sarcastic and irritable. I took him for granted.”  
“An’ you think that ain’t how we all are in relationships?” Shirley sits forward, fixing him again with that intimidating glare. “You point to any person walkin’ along that street outside right now and I’ll bet you all me savin’s they’ve bin sarcastic and irritable at one time or another. We ain’t all perfect, whatsyername - ”  
“Ben,” supplies Ben.  
“None of us are perfect, Ben. Actually, I think I prefer ‘whatsyername’. I reckon you’ve bin beatin’ yerself up for just bein’ human. Am I right? An’ if he walked just cos of that, then he ain’t worth yer time.”  
“It weren’t just cos of that,” says Ben, pressing a couple of painkillers out of their plastic packaging. “I’m dodgy. Me an’ me dad, we’re involved in some dodgy stuff. I don’t wanna be, but me dad - ”  
“Yer dad can be quite persuasive. I remember.”   
“Yeah.” He looks up at her. “How d’ya know him?”  
“Don’t matter.” Shirley sits back and crosses her legs, then clears her throat looking, as far as Ben can tell from the miniscule change to her expression, embarrassed. “We was involved, three or four years back. Not for long though.”  
Ben is astounded. “You an’ me dad?” He can’t remember Phil ever having a girlfriend. He didn’t really think he did that kind of thing. Suddenly, unbidden, the events of last night start coming back to him. He drops his head into his hands. “Oh my god!”  
“What?” asks Shirley. “You ain’t havin’ a seizure, are ya? I ain’t gonna have to do mouth-to-mouth? Cos you ain’t me type, an’ I’m guessin’ I definitely ain’t yours.”  
“I made a pass at Kush last night,” whispers Ben, filled with horror.  
Shirley snorts. “Kush Kazemi? Well I can’t fault yer taste, I s’pose. He’s a very good-lookin’ man. Think yer barkin’ up the wrong tree there though.”  
“Oh my god!” repeats Ben. “I’m such an idiot!”  
“Yup,” says Shirley. She regards him for a few seconds, her foot waggling so that her shoe hangs off it. “Listen,” she says eventually. “You ain’t an idiot. Yer obviously in a bad way about this bloke of yours. Kush’ll get that. Just go and tell him yer sorry, he won’t mind. Probably forgotten about it already.”  
“I kissed him!” exclaims Ben.  
Shirley snorts even louder. “Well, ain’t you the lucky one! Listen Whatsyername, we all do stupid things when we’re grievin’. Did ya know that tomato ketchup freezes solid if ya leave it on a car windscreen overnight in the dead of winter?”   
“What?” asks Ben, not entirely convinced that this isn’t still a messed-up dream he’s having.  
“Ketchup. Yer dad had to get a whole new windscreen fitted, couldn’t scrape it off.”  
Suddenly the penny drops and he stares at Shirley in delight.  
“Steady,” she says. “Yer face is crackin’.” She stands up. “Right, I’ve got stuff to do, can’t be baby-sittin’ you all day. You should go to bed, sleep it off.”

Which is exactly what Ben does. He wakes again at quarter to three in the afternoon feeling like a completely new person. He has a long, luxurious shower and puts on clean clothes, and marvels at the tidiness of his kitchen. He picks up his phone, thinking to text an apology to Kush, but then thinks better of it. He could do with some air, and he’s got a feeling this apology probably needs to be face to face, however mortifying it’s going to be. He’ll just make himself a cuppa, and then set off for the car lot.  
He’s just taking the last few sips when there’s a knock at the door. His heart leaps, but then he tells himself not to be stupid. Callum’s not going to be calling round unannounced. There’s no reason for him to be here. He took all his stuff when he left.  
Ben goes to the door and opens it slowly. It’s Shirley, looking, as far as Ben can tell, self-conscious. She brandishes an oven dish covered in foil at him, looking at a point somewhere level with his chest. “I made too much.”  
“What?”  
She waves it slightly. “Take it, go on!”  
“Nah, Shirley you don’t havta - ”  
“I didn’t. Like I said, I made too much an’ it’ll only go to waste if you don’t have it.”  
“You couldn’t just have it for yer tea tomorrow?”  
She glares at him, “For god’ sake Whatsyername! D’you always look gift horses in the mouth? Take the bleedin’ food. And wash me dish up before you return it. Properly, mind!”  
Ben takes the dish feeling suddenly tearful. “Thanks Shirley. I will. Cheers.”  
She gives a funny little nod and treads back upstairs without once meeting his gaze. Ben takes the dish into the kitchen and lifts up a corner of the foil. Inside is more than half of a lasagne.   
He places it carefully in his fridge feeling almost that he prefers it when people are horrible to him. He’s not sure he knows how to handle random acts of kindness, they leave him feeling a bit choked.  
He throws on a jacket and sets off with dread to apologise to the other person who’s shown him kindness lately, probably over and above what could reasonably be expected, given the circumstances.  
Kush is sorting out a bunch of keys on his desk when Ben pops his head inside the office door after taking a very deep breath outside.  
“Oh, it’s you!” says Kush by way of greeting. “You feelin’ better?”  
“Err, yeah,” says Ben. “Listen, Kush - ”  
“That’s Mr Kushlington, to you,” says Kush with a wide grin on his face.  
Ben rolls his eyes. “Yeah, funny. I just wanted to say sorry. For the… You know…”  
“No?” Kush affects an exaggerated frown. He’s clearly not going to make this easy for Ben.  
“The attempt to kiss ya,” mumbles Ben.  
“The what? Didn’t quite hear ya.”  
“Tryin’ to kiss ya,” says Ben louder.  
“Only that?” asks Kush. “Nothin’ else?”  
Ben shoots him a stricken look. “What else was there?”  
“Hmm, let’s see… tellin’ me I had a mighty fine arse – although you don’t really need to apologise for that. It’s always good to know.” Kush scratches his chin. “Uh, what else? Offerin’ to – and this is a direct quote – ‘do’ me if I wanted. Suggesting I text ya if I ever found meself wanting ya to do me.”  
Ben sinks his head into his hands. “Oh Jesus!”  
Kush snorts. “Don’t worry, mate. We’ve all done stupid stuff when our hearts have bin broken. I once sat outside an ex-girlfriend’s house for two days and a night, til she threatened to call the Old Bill.” He grimaces as he utters the words ‘Old Bill’. “Sorry mate. Didn’t mean to remind ya.”  
“ ‘S OK,” says Ben sadly. “Gonna havta get used to it, ain’t I?”  
“Fraid so,” agrees Kush. “Tell ya what though, if my Kat ever gives me the heave-ho I’ll come and take you up on that offer of yours.”  
He grins, and Ben can’t help grinning back in return. “Yer on. I shan’t forget I’m on a promise.”  
The door opens and suddenly Phil is there. Both of them stop grinning immediately and go into full defensive mode.  
He’s had a drink. Ben can somehow tell. He’s looking red in the face and his hands are shaking slightly.  
“You got the log-book for that Megane I’m servicin’?” he asks Kush without even glancing at Ben.   
“Uh, yeah.” Kush gets up and rummages in the filing cabinet, his movements hurried. Phil is standing in the doorway with his hand outstretched, waiting impatiently. When Kush finds the right document and hands it to him he turns away without a word.  
Ben starts to breathe a sigh of relief, but then Phil turns back to him, pointing at him with the log book. “You, outside. Now.”  
Kush exchanges a look with Ben as he stands up and follows Phil outside.   
Once outside, Phil turns and grabs him by the throat, pushing him up against the side of the portacabin. “You worked out how yer gonna pay me back for messin’ up that deal yet?” he growls.  
Ben is hurting. He’s hurting so very much. His whole life has been torn into pieces by his efforts to keep this man happy. The last time he encountered Phil, he punched him back and it worked. He backed off, and suddenly Ben realises he’s not as scared as he used to be. He’s finally had enough of cowering in front of this man who can’t even get through the day without a drink.  
He pushes back. He lands a punch to Phil’s stomach and the older man staggers backwards.  
“Right!” exclaims Ben, advancing on Phil with pointed finger. “You listen to me, OK? I ain’t gonna do anythin’, cos I’ve had enough of tryin’ to do me best by you and never bein’ good enough. I have lost the only person that mattered to me cos of you and yer selfish inability to get yerself out of yer own scrapes. I ain’t gonna do it no more dad.”  
Phil is staring at him with a bemused expression on his face. He opens his mouth to respond, but Ben cuts him off.  
“You either treat me with a bit of respect, or ya get out me life. It’s your choice, dad. I bin helpin’ ya get this place back in the black, but I bin doin’ it legit, and that’s all I’m prepared to do. An’ if ya don’t start respectin’ me, I ain’t doin’ that anymore neither. You can sort out yer own mess. Understand?”  
Phil draws himself up to his full height. “You cheeky little - ”  
“Do. You. Understand?” repeats Ben.  
He holds Phil’s gaze, trying to contain his trembling, and there’s a moment where it feels like they’re wild animals, fighting for dominance. Phil blinks first. He backs off and strides away across the Square without another word.  
Ben watches him go, taking a deep, shaky breath, and then becomes aware that someone’s watching him from the garden in the centre of the Square. He turns his head to lock eyes with Callum.  
Callum is fixed to the spot where he’d witnessed the entire episode. Ben feels like his knees are about to buckle, and for a few seconds it feels like the world’s frozen around them.  
Then Callum winks, and heads off across the Square.

FIVE  
The Albert is filling up rapidly. You’d never know it’s a cold October night out in Walford. In here, it’s steaming, dancers packing the dance floor and some of the men with their tops off. Ben sits back and enjoys the view.  
It’s been nearly a week since he gave Phil a piece of his mind. Nearly a week since the brief encounter with Callum. He’s heard nothing from either. If he’s realistic, he supposes he didn’t expect to. Phil’s probably drinking off the affront to his ego somewhere and Callum… well, Callum’s moved on. And that’s what Ben needs to do, too. He can’t wait around for any crumbs the older man’s willing to throw him. That would put him in almost the same position he’d been in with his dad for all these years. No, Callum’s decided that having Ben in his life is too problematic, and no amount of winking is going to change that fact.  
Ben’s horny, too, and he’s always a bit more decisive in his actions when faced with the prospect of getting some. Nevertheless, it had still been an effort to force himself out of the flat that evening. The actions involved in showering, picking out decent clothes that were likely to show him off in his best light, and taming his hair, had almost proved too much, but he’d forced himself, telling himself that maybe the next chapter of his life was about to begin. He’s not entirely sure he’s ready, but life goes on. It has to.  
He’s only been here about twenty minutes, but he’s already picked out his quarry for the evening. He sits at a table on the edge of the dancefloor, nursing a pint and eyeing up the bloke who’s standing on the opposite edge of the dancefloor. He’s probably not much taller than Ben himself, blonde, and as different to Callum as it’s possible to be. He’s clocked Ben, too, and is glancing over every now and again as he chats to his group of mates, smiling and laughing easily. Ben waits until he looks in his direction again and raises his pint. The bloke doesn’t stop what he’s saying to his mates, but he juts his chin in Ben’s direction, in the universal sign for ‘I’ve seen you and I’m interested.’  
Ben gazes round the club while he waits for the bloke to make the next move. There’s a fair mix in here, plenty of dykes as well as gay men. Not too many hets though, for which Ben is grateful. He doesn’t know when gay clubs suddenly became tourist attractions for the straight population, but it’s a particular annoyance of his. He’s all for segregation when it comes to having a good time.  
His gaze falls on a small group over near the bar, and his heart lurches. He’d know the back of that head anywhere. Dark hair, head tilted just so. It’s Callum. He must have a day off tomorrow if he’s out tonight. Ben hates that he knows that about him – Callum has always been ultra-sensible when it comes to getting early nights before a work day. He’ll be having a day off tomorrow. Without Ben. He cranes his neck to see who he’s with. As the crowd ebbs and flows around him, Ben sees that there’s a woman with dyed hair wearing a fluffy pink jacket, lipstick lezzie, if Ben knows his tribes like he thinks he knows his tribes, and a tall, willowy bloke who seems to be hanging on Callum’s every word, and his arm at times, too. He’s got his paws all over Callum, and with difficulty Ben resists the urge to go and punch him. Nothing to do with him anymore. Nothing. To do. With him. It still hurts, though.  
Callum looks happy. He looks like he’s forgotten that Ben even exists. Ben downs the rest of his pint and tries not to care that he’s on his own. If he plays his cards right, he won’t be on his own for long anyway. He’s making new friends. Callum turns, shrugging off the other guy’s hand from his arm, and surveys the club. Through a sudden gap in the crowd he spies Ben, and the smile fades from his face. He lifts a hand in greeting, and then the crowd swirls around him again, cutting off Ben’s view of him. He takes a deep breath, and gets up, heading for the other end of the bar so he doesn’t have to bump into him.  
As he waits to be served, he feels his sleeve being tugged. He looks round. It’s the woman who was with Callum. “You’re Ben, right?” She’s cheerful and energetic, pretty but with that undefinably assertive outer shell some dykes have.  
“Uh, yeah,” says Ben. “Who wants to know?”  
She points at herself. “Tina. Callum’s mate.”  
“Oh, right. The mate with the spare room,” says Ben drily.  
“Listen, he don’t know I’m over here talkin’ to ya, thinks I’ve gone to the bog. He pointed you out an’ I just wanted to come and find out what yer like.” She leans in closer. “He talks about ya. A lot.”  
“Yeah? Lists all me faults, does he?”  
She chuckles. “Nah, nothin’ like that. He’s strugglin’ a bit, to be honest. But I didn’t tell ya that, right?”  
Ben’s heart lurches again, but he tells himself not to be an idiot. “Don’t matter, does it?” he says. “Nothin’ I can do about it.”  
She stares at him for a few seconds, and then her faces creases in a grin. “My god! The pair of ya, you need yer heads bangin’ together. Yer such drama queens, the both of ya.”  
“What?” he’s at a loss.  
“Don’t matter,” she says, rolling her eyes. “Just don’t tell him I spoke to ya?”  
“Well I ain’t gonna be speakin’ to him, am I? So I think yer secret’s probably pretty safe.”  
She smiles. “I think I might like ya Ben. Just don’t be a pilchard, alright?”  
He gazes, bemused, at her back as she turns and makes her way through the crowd.   
“Can I buy you a drink?”  
It’s the blonde guy. At last. Ben turns to look at him, sizing him up. He’s good-looking, in a generic kind of way.   
“You could,” says Ben. “Or, we could go and find somewhere a bit quieter.”  
“Oh yeah?” The bloke grins. “Got somewhere we could go?”  
“Yep, just around the corner.”  
“Excellent.” The bloke grabs Ben’s hip and leans in for a kiss. Ben’s body responds immediately. It feels like so long since he’s had this.   
They pull back and the bloke gestures behind himself, “Just go and tell me mates we’re off. Back in a sec.”  
“Meet ya outside,” says Ben. He’s not sure what he’s trying to avoid: Callum, or Callum seeing him leaving with someone. He feels better out in the cold night air though, and kicks his heels against the kerb as he waits for the bloke, anticipating what’s to come.  
The door to the club opens and music and chatter spills out onto the street; then the bloke is at his side. “Right, which way, mate?”  
“Follow me,” says Ben. “Ben, by the way.”  
“Dominic,” says the bloke. “What you up for tonight?”  
“You can do me if ya want,” says Ben, not caring either way.  
“Perfect.”  
Back at the flat, Ben hurries the bloke through into his bedroom past the photos of Callum, still displayed on the living room wall, and they undress quickly. The whole experience is starting to feel a bit like a business transaction, but Ben isn’t going to complain. He can’t be doing with emotion right now. They don’t even waste time kissing, and words are few and far between. Ben lies on his front on the bed and the bloke preps them both, then sinks down on top of him and eases himself inside.  
Ben takes a few deep breaths, relaxing himself incrementally, and rests his head on his arms. Callum’s face floats in front of his mind’s eye, and he tries to blink it away. The bloke is picking up a rhythm now, picking up the pace. It’s going to be over way too soon if he’s not careful.  
“Wait,” grunts Ben. “Wait a sec. Just… just hold it inside me a bit.”  
“Am I hurtin’ ya?” asks the bloke.  
“Nah, just wanna feel ya.”   
The bloke stops. “Tell me when you want me to start up again.”  
Ben nods wordlessly, and hides his face in his arms. His eyes are wet. This is all he needs, crying during sex! He swallows hard and concentrates on the feeling of the bloke inside him, stretching him, filling him up. He tries to imagine that it’s Callum, but the size and the angle’s all wrong. Ben clears his throat and tells himself not to be such a sentimental idiot. In a rough voice, he says “OK, fuck me hard.”  
The bloke doesn’t need telling twice. He starts a hard, fast pace, pushing him up the bed with the force of it. He’s brutal, lacking in finesse or technique. Not like… Not like him.  
Ben lies there and takes it, barely formed thoughts about punishment and deserving what he’s getting floating around his mind.  
“Jesus!” groans the bloke, “you’re taking this so well. You must need this.”  
“Yeah,” mutters Ben. “Yeah, I do. Don’t stop. Harder. Pound me.” He grabs onto the headboard and waits for his brain to zone out, but it doesn’t come. He doesn’t get to that place that normally he would. He can’t stop thinking about how happy Callum had looked.  
The bloke’s rhythm is faltering now, his breath coming in harsh gasps. He thrusts a couple of final times and then comes with a groan. “Fuck!”   
He collapses on top of Ben and takes deep breaths, muttering expletives. “Jesus! Fuck! Fuckin’ hell, that was good.” He slides off Ben and pulls him over onto his side, and then reaches round to take him in his hand. “C’mon, let me finish you off.”  
Ben succumbs to the feel of the bloke’s fist pumping up and down his dick, and comes after only a few seconds. It’s a feeble, half-hearted finish, though, and he buries his head in the pillow. The bloke keeps hold of him until it starts to feel sensitive, and Ben pushes his hand away.  
“Christ I needed that!” exclaims the bloke, rolling over onto his back. “You alright?”  
“Yeah,” says Ben. “Yeah it was great. Thanks.”  
“You, uh, you want me to stay, or should I make a move?”  
Ben raises his head from the pillow. “Probably best if ya get off now.”  
“Yeah.” The bloke chuckles. “Now that I’ve got off, I’ll get off, haha.” He roots around on the floor for his clothes and dresses quickly. “Me mates might still be in the Albert if I hurry.”  
“Yeah, there is that,” says Ben. He holds his breath as the bloke finishes dressing and takes his leave, and then curls up in a ball on the bed, unable to stop the tears sliding down his cheeks. He’d thought he was ready, thought he could move on, but he’s been kidding himself. Seeing Callum like that tonight, looking like all the weight of the world’s finally off his shoulders, has just brought home to Ben how much he misses him.   
The bedclothes smell of Dominic. Ben gets up and strips them off, leaving them in a pile on the floor, and then slides under the uncovered duvet and tries to sleep. 

He wakes the next morning as noises from the Square filter into his consciousness. For a second he wonders why the pillows and the duvet haven’t got covers on, but then the memories of last night come back to him, not to mention the pain in his arse. He groans, and rolls over onto his back, rubbing his eyes against the morning light.  
And so it begins again. The daily battle to kid himself that’s he’s OK. Or OK enough to function in polite human society, in any case. He takes a long, scalding-hot shower and eats breakfast, clad in only his dressing-gown, taking care to eat healthily; trying to savour every morsel. Trying not to look at the photos of Callum on the walls. Then he goes back to bed. And masturbates three times in reasonably quick succession. And then falls asleep until lunchtime.   
Seems like he’s losing the battle today.  
When he wakes up for the second time, he decides it’s high time he stopped being a sad sack and went out to meet the world head-on. He’s going to go to the caff for some lunch.  
He pulls on the clothes he’d worn last night, shrugs on a jacket over the top and heads off across the Square to Bridge Street.   
He side-steps a noisy group of students who are just leaving and orders a bacon bap and a tea, then looks round the caff as he waits for it to be served. Then realises he should just have stayed in bed.   
Callum is sitting at the table in the window. Ben watches him, unobserved. He’s staring down into his mug of tea. Not looking like the weight of the world is off his shoulders.  
“Go and sit down, I’ll bring it over,” says the woman behind the counter to Ben, and at the sound of her voice Callum glances up. His expression changes, a nervous, uncertain look coming over his face. “You, uh… you could join me, if ya want.” He waves his hand at the chair opposite him.  
Ben doesn’t feel like he’s got any choice. Part of him almost skips over; another part can’t help feeling there’s no good can come of this. He wanders over, trying to control his racing pulse, and sits down heavily.  
“You OK?”   
Callum looks like he has to take a second to snap back into the present moment. “Uh, yeah, guess so. You? What you bin up to today?”  
“Wanking, mainly,” says Ben, immediately regretting his honesty.   
Callum stares at him, taken aback. “O-kaaay.” His gaze flickers over Ben’s clothes and his eyes harden. “Just comin’ home?”  
“Huh?”  
Callum indicates Ben’s outfit with a nod of his head. “Same clothes from last night, ain’t they?”  
Ben looks down at himself. “Well, yeah, but only cos they’re probably the only clean clothes I’ve got at the moment. I just chucked on the first thing that came to hand when I got up.”  
They sit in silence until Ben’s food is brought over. “You want anythin’ else?” he asks Callum while the server’s still waiting by their table.  
“Nah, I’m OK,” says Callum. He sounds tired, and now that Ben’s close enough for a proper look at him, he can see there are black bags under his eyes.  
“Who was that bloke?” he asks through a mouthful of bacon bap after the server’s retreated back behind the counter.  
Callum frowns.  
“Last night, the bloke you was with.”  
“Oh! Jason. No-one, really, Just a mate from work.”  
“Looked like a really close mate,” ventures Ben.  
“Nah, not really. He’s a bit full-on.”  
“Yeah, I could see that,” says Ben. “Quite handsy. All over you, he was.”  
Callum gives him a warning look. “Ben.”  
“I know, I know”, says Ben, waving his bap around in one hand. “Nothin’ to do with me anymore, is it?”  
They resume their silence, Callum once more staring into his mug of tea. “I meant to say,” he starts eventually, “Last week, with yer dad. I, uh… I was proud of ya. You stood up to him. You heard from him since?”  
“Nah, spect he’s drinkin’ it off somewhere,” says Ben, feeling pathetically chuffed at Callum’s praise. “Hey, what did your dad want, anyway? That time he come round the flat he said he wanted somethin’ important.”  
Callum rolls his eyes. “He’s gettin’ married. Some poor unsuspectin’ woman called Karen. Wants me to be best man.”  
Ben snorts. “I’d love to hear the best man speech you got planned.”  
“I ain’t doin’ it. I’ve told him but he keeps comin’ back, tryin’ to persuade me.” Callum runs his fingers up and down the side of his mug. “Think he wants us to play happy families. Think he’s spun this Karen a line about bein’ a family man.” He huffs out a laugh and shakes his head gently. “I ain’t doin’ it.”  
“Good fer you.” Ben shoves the last bite of his bap into his mouth and wipes his hands on his jeans. “Dads, eh? More trouble than they’re worth, ain’t they? S’pose we wouldn’t be here without ‘em though.”  
Callum laughs at the obviousness of his statement. As his laugh fades he holds eye contact. His gaze is warm, tender. “I was proud of ya, last week,” he says again.  
“You said.”  
“Yeah, but I wantcha to know. You were really brave.” He shifts in his seat and huffs a laugh. “Put me to shame.”  
“How d’ya work that out?”  
“You gave Phil a choice, didn’t ya? Respect you or lose you. That’s pretty grown-up of ya.” Callum is still maintaining eye contact. “I ain’t never done that. I just ran from mine and tried to hide, til he found me again. An’ I’m as scared of him now as I was when I was a kid. So,” he shrugs, “I reckon your way’s better, don’t you?”  
“Not so sure about that,” says Ben.  
“You reckon you can keep yer nerve? If Phil asks ya to do another dodgy job?”  
“Yup. I’ve had it with his bullshit,” says Ben.  
Callum looks like he’s not entirely convinced, and Ben stares at him defiantly. As they hold eye contact again, neither one wanting to be the one to break it, their gazes soften once more. The world around them fades out, and eventually a sad look comes over Callum’s face. He looks away. “I, uh… I feel like I wanna kiss ya right now.”  
“Not so sure that’s a good idea,” says Ben softly, despite the fact that his heart’s suddenly racing.   
“No?”  
“No.” Ben picks at the tablecloth with his nail. “Cos I wouldn’t wantcha to stop at just a kiss. And I know you ain’t got anything more to give.” He takes a deep breath and is suddenly desperate to get out of there. He can’t handle the weight of emotion on his chest right now. He knew he should have just stayed in bed. “Listen, I’d better make a move, Cal.”   
Callum snaps out of whatever he was thinking. “Yeah, I’d better get on, an’ all. Sorry. I shouldn’ta said that. It weren’t fair of me.”  
They both stand up and make their way out of the café, Ben dreading the moment when they’re going to have to go their separate ways.   
He turns. “Good to see ya, Cal. Take care.”  
“Yeah.” Callum looks like he’s about to cry. “I do miss ya, Ben.”  
“I know, I miss ya too.” Ben huffs out a self-deprecating laugh. “Miss ya so much sometimes it hurts.”  
Callum draws him into a hug, and he nudges his face into his neck, wanting this to never end; feeling that once he steps away this time, that’ll be it. They’ll never touch like this again. He breathes in Callum’s aroma.  
He feels Callum run a gentle hand through the hair at the nape of his neck, and then a voice comes from across the street, shattering the moment.  
“Oi! What the fuck d’ya think yer doin’?”  
Callum pulls away from him immediately, and Ben’s hackles raise. It’s Jonno.  
“You let that little faggot get that close to ya?” he demands, striding over to Callum. “You LET him do that to ya?”  
“He weren’t doin’ anythin’, dad,” says Callum. His voice is tight, and when he raises a hand to his forehead Ben can see that he’s shaking. “We was just huggin’ goodbye.”  
“Poofs hug goodbye! You had yer hand in his hair, Callum. You a poof an’ all?”  
Callum stares at the ground, looking like all the life’s gone out of him.  
“I asked you a question, boy!” thunders Jonno. “Are you a queer bent bastard? Cos if you are, I’ll thrash it outta ya.”  
“Cal,” says Ben, stepping forward. Callum darts a look up at him and shakes his head almost imperceptibly.  
“I ain’t jokin’” says Jonno. “Filthy little pervert. I don’t wantcha at me weddin’ if that’s the kinda thing ya get up to. Or in me life. I’ll disown ya.”  
“Good reason to admit it,” says Ben in an undertone.   
“Ben, please,” whispers Callum.  
“Whatcha say?” asks Jonno, turning on Ben.   
“I said, that’d be a good reason to admit it. Whether he was or whether he wasn’t.” says Ben. “Sounds like your weddin’s gonna be the car crash of the century, mate.”  
Jonno lunges at him, and all hell lets loose for a few seconds. Jonno half-lands a punch on Ben’s jaw; Ben elbows him in his stomach, and Callum tries to get in between them both, his police training suddenly kicking in. “Enough!” he yells. He takes a few breaths. “I’m a copper, dad. I don’t care who you are, I’ll arrest ya if you don’t leave him alone.”  
“Who?” sneers Jonno. “Yer boyfriend?”  
Callum darts a quick glance sideways at Ben. “Me ex-boyfriend, dad. Ex-boyfriend.”  
Jonno is struck dumb. He looks from Callum to Ben and back to Callum again, a look of sheer disgust on his face.  
“Oi! Whatsyername!” Ben turns to see Shirley approaching from the corner of the street. “Everythin’ alright?”  
“You disgustin’ little - ”  
“What’s his problem?” asks Shirley, stepping in front of Jonno and immediately blocking him out of the conversation. She looks Callum up and down and makes approving noises. “Hmm, I see what ya saw in him. From the sounds the two of ya used to make, he was good in bed as well as good-lookin’, am I right?”  
“Who are you?” asks Callum, sounding like a man who’s lost control of the situation he finds himself in.  
Ben grins at Shirley. “He weren’t bad,” he says.  
“Fuckin’ disgustin’,” says Jonno, from behind Shirley.  
She wheels round and advances on him. “I don’t think anyone asked fer your opinion, shortarse. Now why don’t ya do one and leave these boys to sort ‘emselves out?”  
It’s clear that Ben’s not the only one to interpret her expression as a glare. Jonno steps back a couple of steps, seeming to shrink in stature at the same time.  
“One last chance boy,” he shouts from a safe distance. “Tell me you ain’t queer or you can say goodbye to any more contact with me. I ain’t jokin’.”  
“Oh do one!” exclaims Shirley. “Course he’s queer. I mean, look at him!”  
Jonno looks from Shirley to Callum, and when Callum doesn’t correct Shirley, he hawks up phlegm and spits it in his direction, then strides away up the road.  
Ben, Callum and Shirley stare at each other in the silence. Callum is still tense, his hands shaking, but he slowly starts to shake his head.  
“Why has a total stranger just outed me in the middle of the street?” he asks no one in particular.  
“I’ve done you a favour, mate,” mutters Shirley.   
Ben is grinning at the sheer comedy of the moment. Callum notices and rounds on him. “It ain’t funny, Ben!”  
“Course it is,” says Ben. “You’ve bin tryin’ to get that nasty piece of work off yer back for ages. Well, with Shirley’s help, you’ve succeeded. You should be celebratin’!”  
Callum pinches the bridge of his nose between his fingers. “What did ya mean, ‘look at me’?” he asks Shirley.  
She fixes her intimidating glare on him and waves a hand in his general direction. “Yer clothes, yer hair. Let’s face it, mate, yer too well-groomed to be straight, ain’t ya? Not so sure about Whatsyername here though. He’d pass with that jacket.”  
Ben sniggers, but Callum’s still looking as if someone’s just hit him between the eyes. “This is a madhouse,” he mumbles. “Yer both mad. An’ I don’t even know who you are,” he adds to Shirley. He retreats up the road in the opposite direction to the one Jonno had taken.  
“Cal,” calls Ben. “Callum!”  
But Callum disappears round the corner of Bridge Street without a backward glance.   
“Great,” exclaims Ben. “Thanks for that Shirley.”  
“Oi!” she grits out. “Don’t forget I’ve seen you at yer lowest. You might wanna start bein’ civil to me. Otherwise the whole Square might find out ya made a pass at Kush Kazemi.”

Back at the flat, Ben shoves his bed linen in the washing machine, sets it to the right programme and then texts Callum. You OK? Text/call me if you need to talk.   
He waits for a few minutes, staring at his phone, but there’s no reply. Ben sighs. Presumably he’s got Tina and Handsy Jason to offload to now.  
It’s not until much later that night, after eleven, that his phone pings. He grabs it, but the number showing on the home screen isn’t one he knows. He opens the message. This is Tina, Cal’s friend. He gave me yr number. Can you meet me at Walford East at 6 tomoz? X  
Ben frowns. He texts back immediately. Yes – is Cal OK?  
Cal fine ( 😊 ). C U tomoz x

He’s not sure he believes her. Why would she be arranging to meet with him if there wasn’t something wrong? He frets about it all the next day, trying to take his mind off it by doing a bit of housekeeping, the first in ages, but by four in the afternoon he can’t settle.  
He changes ready to go out, and then heads over to the Vic for a couple of pints. Even then, it’s still only quarter to six when he sets out for Walford East.  
He’s seated immediately and he whiles away the last few minutes before Tina turns up with another pint. She hasn’t arrived by five to six. He wonders if she’s the sort to be late. She’d seemed like she might be. At dead on six, his phone pings with a message. Yup, he thinks, picking it up. Here comes the excuse.  
It is from her, but he doesn’t understand it. It’s just the one word: Talk!  
He’s still frowning down at it when he becomes aware of someone approaching his table. He glances up. It’s Callum. His heart does its usual somersault in his chest.  
As soon as he sees Ben, Callum rolls his eyes. “I’ll kill her,” he says by way of greeting.  
“Huh? What’s goin’ on, Cal? I thought I was meetin’ Tina.”  
“Yeah, so did I,” says Callum with a sigh as he sits down opposite Ben. He orders a beer from the waitress and then waves his hand between himself and Ben. “She’s set us up, ain’t she?”  
Immediately Ben feels awkward. “Sorry, I can go if ya want. I don’t wanna make ya uncomfortable.”  
“Nah!” says Callum quickly. “I mean, yer here now, ain’t ya? We might as well get some food, I’m starvin’. Ain’t really eaten all day.”  
“You bin at work?”  
“Yeah, early shift. Had to break up a massive fight between two gangs of kids outside the precinct, mad, it was.” Callum picks up the menu and starts to peruse it. “How ‘bout you? What you been up to?” He darts a glance at Ben, presumably hoping Ben’s not going to gift him with the same revelation as yesterday in the café.  
“Uh, nothin’ really,” says Ben. “Cleaned the flat. Had a couple of pints in the Vic. Came here.”  
“You not back at work yet?”  
“Nah.”  
Callum looks concerned. “You should go back Ben, get back to normal.”  
Ben bites back a retort that he doesn’t want to go back to normal. He doesn’t want that at all. Normal would mean moving on, and he’s nowhere near ready to do that. “You OK?” he says instead. “After yesterday. Yer dad and that.”  
Callum takes a deep breath. “Yeah, ain’t heard from him since. Maybe that’s a good sign.” He frowns. “Who WAS that woman who come outta nowhere?”  
Ben grins. “That’s Shirley, our upstairs neighbour.” Immediately the grin fades. “Uh… my upstairs neighbour.”  
They lapse into a silence that threatens to become awkward, until Callum raises his glass. “To absent dads.”  
“Yep, here’s to tamin’ ‘em,” adds Ben.   
“So, d’ya- ” says Callum, at the same time as Ben says, “This is a -”  
“Sorry,” says Ben. “You go.”  
“Was just gonna ask if ya think yer dad’ll leave you alone now.”  
“Yeah, I reckon. At least, I reckon he’ll think twice about ropin’ me into any dodgy deals. Cos I ain’t gonna get involved, Cal. I really ain’t.” He sits forward, trying his hardest to make Callum see that he means it. “I lost - ” He claps his mouth shut, suddenly aware of what he was about to say.  
“Ya lost what?” asks Callum, looking at him closely.  
Ben maintains his gaze. “I lost the best thing that ever happened to me, Cal. I know it’s too late to put it right, but it’ll all be for nothin’ if I just go back to them ways again, won’t it?”  
Callum nods, tracing patterns in the condensation on his glass with his finger. “What if ya hadn’t lost it?”  
Ben stares at him, not comprehending.  
“I mean,” Callum continues, “What if there was a way of getting’ it back? Assumin’ yer talkin’ about me. I mean, what if maybe we could work on gettin’ it back. Me back, I mean.” He shakes his head as if to straighten out his train of thought. “The thing is, Ben. I still wanna - ”   
“Are you ready to order, gents?”  
Ben tears his gaze away from Callum with an effort. He’s not sure he could eat now if he wanted to. His stomach is filled with a thousand fluttering butterflies. For a second, he’s confused about what the ditzy-looking waitress wants. Oh, yeah! They’re in a restaurant. Food ordering. “Uh, could ya give us a sec, please?” he asks.   
Callum is still gazing at him. Ben’s not even sure he’s noticed the arrival and departure of the waitress. “I still wanna kiss ya,” he continues. “Every time I see ya, I wanna kiss ya, and I know yer scared that I won’t give ya anythin’ else, but maybe I could. I was worried you’d get involved in dodgy stuff that would cost me me job, but I kinda believe ya now that you ain’t gonna do that anymore.”  
“I ain’t,” Ben assures him, not daring to hope.  
“So, maybe I could give ya everythin’ again. What d’ya say?”  
“It’s all I want, Cal. It’s all I ever wanted.”  
“Right, so…” Callum huffs out a long breath. “Maybe we should try and make a go of it again.”  
“Yeah,” says Ben, and then a sly smile spreads across his face. “Although…”  
Immediately Callum looks worried. “What?”  
“Well, before I enter into any bindin’ agreement, I should try the goods, shouldn’t I? Give ya a test-run.”  
Callum grins and raises his hand for the waitress. “Sorry darlin’, we ain’t gonna stop for food now. Can we just pay for the drinks?”

As they wander back across the Square Callum takes his hand, and Ben dips his chin into his collar to conceal the shy smile that’s spreading across his features. “Imagine bumpin’ into yer dad now.”  
“Stop!” says Callum. Once at Ben’s building he nuzzles Ben’s neck as he fumbles with the key to the outside door, and, once inside, pushes him up against the flat door and slides a hand round his waist. Ben pulls his face down to his and kisses him again and again. He’ll never get enough of this.   
He loses track of how long they stay there, making out against the door until, at some point, he hears Shirley’s voice as she comes into the building.  
“Urgh! Whatsyername, get a room!”  
He pauses from snogging the face off Callum. “I’ve got a room.”  
“Well bleedin’ well use it, then! No one needs to see that.” She mutters to herself as she goes upstairs about not realising the consequences of helping them out with Callum’s dad, and beginning to wish she hadn’t bothered.  
Callum stares after her in horror. “Is that… Is that Gladys reincarnated?”  
“Nah, can’t be,” says Ben. “Shirley’s too old.”  
From the top of the stairs, Shirley shouts “Oi! I heard that!”   
Ben and Callum grin at each other.  
“Much as I like makin’ out with ya right here,” says Ben, “There is a perfectly good bed just the other side of this door.”  
“Well get the door unlocked then,” commands Callum.  
“I’m tryin’! Ya keep distractin’ me.”  
Callum takes a step back, hands raised, and Ben manages to unlock the door and step through into his flat. Their flat.  
Callum follows him more cautiously, looking nervous. “This feels a bit weird,” he admits. He smiles at Ben. “Lots of emotions.” He wanders around the room, gazing at the photos on the wall, running a soft hand over the china dog on the mantelpiece.  
“Good emotions though, yeah?” asks Ben, watching him.   
“Mainly.”   
“Did you wanna eat somethin’ first?” asks Ben. “Back in the restaurant, ya said ya were starvin’. I think I’ve got some bread, an’ - ”  
“I can wait,” says Callum. “For you, I can wait.” He crosses the room and takes Ben’s hand, then leads him into the bedroom. “Sit with me,” he says, perching himself on the end of the bed.  
Ben suddenly feels nervous, like this is his first time again, like he’s a teenager just coming out and working out what he likes, who he is. He does as he’s told, and Callum nuzzles into his neck again. “Let’s take this nice and slow,” he says between kisses. “Wanna savour this. And let’s face it, we’ve got all the time in the world, ain’t we?”  
Ben thinks of the contrast with the last time he’d had sex in this room, and feels like crying, this time with relief and gratitude for this amazing man in his arms. They should never have been apart. He should never have caused Callum to leave. He’s not ever going to let it happen again. 

Much, much later, he wakes from a post-sex slumber to find that he’s in the bed alone. He can hear sounds coming from the kitchen, and he slides his boxers back on and goes out to see what Callum’s doing.  
He watches quietly from the doorway as Callum busies himself with pans and toaster, humming quietly to himself. “Whatcha doin’?” he asks.  
Callum spins round at the sound of his voice. “Yer awake!” He comes across to kiss him. “Makin’ poached eggs on toast, of course.”  
Ben smiles contentedly. “Of course. Welcome home, babe.”


End file.
